


Caring

by LondonGypsy



Series: 'I Do' [5]
Category: Benedict Cumberbatch Fandom, British Actor RPF
Genre: Developing Relationship, M/M, Secret Relationship, Sexy Times, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-30
Updated: 2014-12-30
Packaged: 2018-03-04 07:59:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3020105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LondonGypsy/pseuds/LondonGypsy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Closing night, a cold, grumpy Benedict and a cure of sorts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Caring

**Author's Note:**

> Beta by the wonderful OzGirlGlinda

Alex leans against a pillar, utterly lost in the sight of the man on the stage, pacing it in its entire length, talking at a speed that has Alex a bit dizzy. He's still not quite used to it and it baffles him, has him wonder how it's humanly possible to talk that fast.

Not only the speed but also the fact that he has memorised every tiny motion, every flick of his wrists, every look, every impatient eye-roll.

And not only today but night after night after night. Alex has watched him quite some times over the past months and even though there are tiny changes every now and then, it's impressive - at least for Alex.

It's closing night and deep down inside Alex is glad about it: the last three months have been torture. For both of them. And Alex is looking forward to the however short break between the end of the play and the beginning of the next shoot.

Glancing at his watch, he shifts his weight.

Not long now.

He should leave, should make his way through the contorted hallways to avoid the crowd that will fill them in about five minutes, making it impossible for him to get to Benedict's dressing room in time.

But he can't tear his eyes away from the man in question.

It seems to Alex that he's throwing all he has into this last performance as a goodbye to the star struck audience.

Everything's more intense, more accentuated tonight and Alex is just as enchanted as the breathless people around him.

Benedict's able to capture every single person's attention, hold and keep it like nothing Alex has ever seen before.

The silence in the auditorium is deafening as the last sentence is uttered, the lights slowly fading out, one last spotlight enveloping the motionless body on the stage in a dim glow before even that goes out and darkness falls over the theatre.

It takes a few heartbeats before the first tentative claps can be heard. And as every single night before it increases until the room's filled with loud applause, a few catcalls and cheers mingled into the fierceness of tonight's audience.

Alex waits a few more seconds, savouring the standing ovation and relishing Benedict's happy smile as he bows and bows again, before he pushes away from the pillar and opens the heavy doors to the hallway.

By now he knows his way around and it doesn't take long until he's reached the dressing room. He clicks the kettle on, puts away the shirt Benedict had thrown haphazardly over a chair earlier and places the towel over the heater so it's warmed.

The kettle clicks off just as Benedict pushes the door open, his face lighting up when he sees Alex. Benedict kicks the door shut, leaning against it and they exchange a long, meaningful look.

Wordlessly Alex walks over and wraps his arms around him. Benedict sighs and slumps against him, his cheek pressing warm and a bit damp against Alex's, his chest still heaving.

They hold on to each other until Benedict's breathing has calmed. Not moving Alex waits until Benedict's heart is beating slower, almost in sync with his own before he pulls back, searching the other man's eyes.

"Okay?" he asks quietly.

Benedict shakes his head and Alex pulls him close again, buries his nose in his hair, the scent of make-up and a hint of Benedict's aftershave the sweetest perfume.

Alex feels Benedict's hands clench into the fabric of his jumper, the faint quivering of his body not lost to him.

Benedict takes a few deep shuddery breaths, his lips brushing over Alex's neck, his cheek until they find his mouth. Alex stays still, relishing the soft kisses Benedict's laying all over his face, getting lost in the sensation of his warm mouth on his skin.

Only as Benedict's tongue slides tentatively over the seam of his mouth, does Alex part his lips, the broken moan swallowed by Benedict, kissing him so carefully, so sweetly, Alex's heart aches.

It's a side he only shows when getting off stage: tender and hesitant, almost shy, mutely asking for permission which Alex always gives.

Alex's hand runs soothingly over Benedict's back, his neck, caressing, calming until Benedict breaks the kiss with a breathy sigh, resting his forehead against Alex's, his eyes wide open.

"Okay," he whispers and Alex lets go, taking a step back.

"Tea or shower?" he asks.

"Shower."

Alex points at the towel. Benedict smiles briefly and then starts undressing, just letting his clothes drop where he stands. Alex tries to ignore him - which is like trying to ignore an earthquake right underneath him.

Even though there's absolutely nothing sexual about the methodical stripping of layers - he just wants to get out of them - Alex can't help but admire the beauty of Benedict's body. Sinewy and slender - he seems taller when he's naked like this - moving towards the shower, defined muscles working smoothly under pale skin.

Benedict's in a haze otherwise he would notice Alex's gaze on himself, would quirk a curious eyebrow at him, that mischievous glint coming into his eyes.

Alex would never admit it but he loves these moment when he just can watch him, drink in his every move and nothing will come out of it.

Sometimes the waiting, the anticipation is enough for him.

The sound of the shower running tears Alex out of his thoughts and shaking his head at himself he collects Benedict's discarded costume and hangs it on its proper place.

Even though it's not needed anymore, Alex is certain it's appreciated when it is where it belongs and not on the floor.

He starts preparing the tea and then sits down on the small sofa, waiting for Benedict.

A few minutes later he emerges with wet hair, wearing training bottoms and an old jumper, too big for him and falls next to Alex.

"Thank you," he mumbles as Alex hands him the mug, his voice sounding croaky.

Alex eyes him carefully - he hasn't been quite himself the past few days and Alex fears he's getting ill.

"I'm fine," Benedict says, sipping his tea, "just a cold."

Alex grins.

"Am I that obvious?" he asks, nudging Benedict to sit back against the armrest.

Benedict shifts, pulling his feet up and under Alex's thighs to warm them.

"Yeah well, by now I can see lots of your thoughts on your face," he says, smirking wearily.

Alex chuckles and nods.

"I'll keep that in mind."

They fall silent again, the distant murmur of closing night muffled by the door.

Absently Alex starts stroking Benedict's bony ankle, caressing his warm skin, his fingertips trailing over the tendons, and he loses himself in the steady up and down of his own motion.

"If you don't stop, I'll fall asleep right here and we have to spend the night," Benedict mutters sleepily, waggling his toes.

"Not the worst prospect," Alex says.

"Hm, I'd rather sleep in my own bed."

"You want company?"

Alex holds his breath while Benedict looks up, a surprised expression on his face. He scans Alex's face, his hazy gaze sharpening.

"I think I'd like that," Benedict eventually says quietly, and Alex exhales a breath he didn't notice he was holding.

"Only if you really want," Alex says nevertheless his hearts starts beating a bit faster.

Benedict sets down his mug and leans forward, his darkening eyes roaming over Alex's face.

"I really want," he murmurs, taking Alex's face in his hands. His palms are warm and Alex sighs at the touch.

"It's been too long," Benedict whispers, "I dislike sleeping alone."

"You're working too much," Alex replies, drowning in the green-blue swirls of Benedict's eyes so close to his.

"I know. But I'm not working anymore."

The last is uttered against his lips as Benedict kisses him, gentle but with a simmering urgency that makes Alex's toes curl.

"Your place or mine?" Alex asks, moaning softly as Benedict curls his long fingers around his ears, caressing the sensitive skin there.

"Yours."

Alex nods and Benedict deepens the kiss, soft purrs vibrating through his chest.

"Take me home, Alex."

His voice is low and there's a hint of something sad in it, that has Alex deepen the kiss before he breaks it, searching Benedict's eyes.

He nods and they stand, Benedict to get dressed and Alex to clean out the dressing room.

Wordlessly he collects the few things that found their way from Benedict's flat over the past months and packs them into the small bag he brought. Meanwhile Benedict slips into his jeans and his boots, his movements slow and dreamlike. He doesn't bother with changing into the shirt he wore when he came in today, leaving the worn jumper on and slips into his jacket.

Both cast one last look around; the room looks empty and a tad abandoned now that all of Benedict's personal belongings are gone.

Benedict runs a hand over the small desk and the chair, his lips moving tonelessly.

Just as Alex wants to ask, there's a sharp knock on the door and the head of one of the security guards appears.

"Ah, Mr Cumberbatch, you're still here."

"Hello Karl. We're just about to head out," Benedict says, smiling at the man.

"Shall I get the car to the back?"

Benedict tilts his head and then asks:

"Are there many tonight?"

Karl's eyebrows raise and he pushes the door open to enter the room.

"I don't know. Want me to find out?"

Benedict casts a glance at Alex who shrugs.

"Your choice."

Running a hand through his hair Benedict nods towards the security.

"Yes, please. If it's not too much trouble."

"One moment."

The man leaves the room again, talking quietly to someone on the theatre intern radio.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Alex asks, picking up the bag and throwing it over his shoulder.

"It's the last night, why the hell not?"

"Mr Cumberbatch?", Karl pokes his head through the door again, "there are about 20."

Benedict smiles and nods.

"Well then, let's make them happy, shall we?"

Karl smirks and speaks into the radio again, waiting for Alex and Benedict.

Trudging down the endless hallways, Alex tries to ignore the worry filling his mind.

Benedict's tired, his step heavy and Alex doesn't know if he's really able to handle the overwhelming devotion that certainly will greet him when he steps outside the stage door.

"Ben?" he starts but Benedict stops him with a hand on his arm.

"Only a few," he says, smiling reassuringly at Alex, "I can handle that. Karl will assist, right Karl?"

"Of course, Sir," the man says over his shoulder.

"See? Everything's okay. Want to skip it and wait in the car?"

Alex considers it: Benedict doesn't need him, and Alex hates the attention he will attract if he leaves with him. On the other hand he feels a fierce protectiveness coursing through him that he can hardly ignore.

"I don't know," he admits, sighing a little.

Benedict stops and turns towards him, observing Alex intensely, his eyes flickering over his face.

"Wait in the car," he says after a moment of silence, "it'll give me the incentive to not take too long."

He smiles, and despite the utter exhaustion Alex can see on his face, it makes his heart flutter. There's a deep longing in his eyes, subdued but very visible for Alex and he has to force himself to not reach out and caress his cheek.

Instead he nods, tightening his hand around the bag and starts walking again.

"Hurry," he mutters as he pushes the stage door open, ducking his head and coils through the anxiously waiting people outside.

It's raining and a cold wind blows in his face as he walks around the corner where a car waits, and he slips inside, shivering.

Instantly he turns around, peering out of the rear window.

He can't see Benedict but he can see the sudden movement of the people, and he even hears a few muffled squees.

Despite his worries, he smiles. They didn't expect this as Benedict had stated countless times that he wouldn't do stage door. It never kept the people from waiting around until security sent them away every night.

Tonight they got lucky though.

He rolls down the window a bit and he can hear Benedict's dark baritone echo through the small alley; he doesn't understand the words but he knows the tone: calm and gentle but determined.

Alex imagines him writing autographs, chatting a bit although he's certain he's not taking pictures with them. It would take too long.

And indeed, only a few minutes later the car door opens and Benedict flops into the seat, exhaling deeply, shaking the rain out of his hair.

The driver starts the car and steers into the nightly London.

"Do you want to stop by home?" Alex asks after a while, startling Benedict a little.

"Hm?"

"We're going to your place," Alex adds patiently.

"Ah yes. I can pick up a few things then."

Alex eyes him but doesn't say anything, the warmth in the car lulls him in.

*

Half an hour later the driver pulls the car over, announcing they arrived.

"Mr Ewans?" he asks as Alex instinctively also opens the door.

He curses inwardly and falls back in the seat.

Benedict leans over and picks up the bag lying on the floor of the car.

"Go," he murmurs, only audible for Alex, "I'll get my things and walk."

Alex nods.

The driver wishes Benedict a good night and Alex watches him shuffle towards the door before the car pulls onto the street again to take him home.

"Good night Mr Ewans," the driver says as he stops at Alex's flat.

"Thanks. Good night."

Alex clambers out and walks towards the door, calculating how long it will take Benedict to come over.

He estimates about half an hour: Benedict doesn't need much. Alex wonders what exactly he wants to pick up, he does have a few things at Alex's place already.

Shrugging he lets himself in, switches on the lights and wanders into the kitchen to check if there's anything edible in the fridge.

*

It takes about an hour until the doorbell eventually rings and wakes Alex, dozing on the sofa. He stumbles to the door to let Benedict in.

"Sorry it took so long," he apologises, dropping the small bag in the hallway, "had to take care of a few things. But now I'm all yours."

Brushing a fleeting kiss over Alex's cheek he walks into the sitting room, flopping on the sofa only to jump up again and return to the hall to get his bag.

"I've got you something," he says, digging through the bag and produces a wrapped package that he throws at Alex who catches it.

"What is it?" he asks, sitting down next to Benedict.

"Open it and you'll see," is the cheeky reply, tainted by the long yawn.

Rolling his eyes Alex unwraps the paper, revealing a beautifully bound notebook.

"You said, you'd rather write things down so I thought..."

Benedict shrugs, smiling lopsidedly at Alex who turns the notebook in his hands, oddly touched by this small gesture.

"It's perfect," he says, "thank you."

"Don't mention it."

Benedict yawns again, slouching into the cushions of the sofa.

"Ben, go to bed," Alex says.

"Can't, too wired. Is there anything on the telly?"

Alex shrugs, picking up the remote and turns on the television.

"No idea. Let's see, shall we?"

*

They spend the next hour with channel hopping, bickering about the arduous program until they find a documentary they can agree on.

Alex is quite fascinated by it and only a soft snore right next to him has him look up.

Benedict's fallen asleep, sprawled all over the sofa, head resting in an awkward angle against the backrest.

Smiling Alex switches of the television and gently nudges Benedict.

"Come on sleepyhead, off to bed with you."

Benedict mutters something as Alex stands and pulls him to his feet - he half carries, half drags him towards the bedroom. There Benedict falls face first into bed, wiggling under the covers and is instantly out again.

Shaking his head Alex pulls the cover off him again and rolls him gently on his back.

"You'll thank me tomorrow," he murmurs as he opens his jeans and takes them off. He peels his socks of his feet and tries to get the jumper over his head but it's harder than he thought. Benedict's quite heavy and it takes Alex a bit to eventually get the fabric off him.

He lets his gaze roam over his body, wincing as he sees the ribs jutting out on his torso, and his hipbones sharply outlined under the thin fabric of his pants.

"You need to eat more," he grumbles as he drapes the duvet back over him.

For another moment he just stands there, looking down on the other man, enjoying that he can do this, drinking in the man's deep breaths, the slow up and down of his chest, and only a particular loud snore tears him out of his musings.

He quickly shucks his own clothes and slips into bed, turning towards Benedict, watching him sleep until his eyes fall closed and he's drifting off into sleep himself.

*

The sound of suppressed coughing wakes him and as he blinks heavy lids open, he can make out Benedict's back, shaking with the effort to keep quiet.

He makes a questioning sound, reaching out a hand to lay it on the man's back.

Benedict's skin is burning and Alex is wide awake in an instant. He shifts closer, peering over the man's shoulder.

Benedict's face is red, his eyes squeezed shut as another coughing fit shakes him which he tries to muffle in the pillow.

"Gosh, Ben, you're burning up," Alex murmurs, laying a hand on his cheek, gasping at the heat he emits.

Hazy, clouded eyes open and squint into the light.

"Christ, my head feels as if it's exploding."

"Ben, you've got a fever," Alex says, pushing away and getting up, "you need a doctor."

There's a grumbled noise and another cough; it hurts Alex's throat only listening to it.

"I'm okay, I get this sometimes. My bag. I've got meds in there. Could you get it for me?"

Alex casts a long look at the man in the bed and then shrugs.

He trudges into the sitting room to get the bag and returns to the bedroom.

Benedict sits up, swaying a little as he pulls the bag on the bed and rummages through it.

Alex goes to fetch him a glass of water and Benedict smiles weakly at him as he downs the pills in his hand with it.

"Ta."

Alex sits on the edge of the bed, frowning at him.

"Stop fussing," Benedict mumbles, lying back, "it's just a cold. Nothing to worry about."

He pauses and then blinks, searching Alex's eyes.

"I'm sorry."

Alex's frown deepens.

"What for?"

"For getting ill. If you want me to go home-"

"Shut up," Alex interrupts briskly, reaching out to brush Benedict's hair back, "stop apologising for something that you have no control over. And no, I won't let you go home. Here I can look after you and drag you to the doctor if I have to."

The weary smile on Benedict's dry lips makes Alex's stomach flip and he can't help it as he leans down, kissing him gently.

"What do you need?" he asks as he sits up straight.

"I'm good. Those," he waves a hand towards his back, "meds from the last time I had this. Pain-pills, some to get the fever down, the usual."

"I'm not going to say how utterly wrong that sounds," Alex quips, standing up, feeling helpless, "I hope you know what you're doing."

"I do."

"Are you hungry?" Alex asks, certain he isn't.

Benedict shakes his head, curling around himself, shivering a bit.

"Nah."

Helplessly Alex watches him.

"Then get some more sleep. If you need anything-"

Benedict hums approvingly and drifts off to sleep even before Alex can finish the sentence.

Alex watches him and then shrugs: there's not much he can do right now. Benedict can be quite stubborn and if he doesn't want to see a doctor, Alex can't force him.

Bending down he takes the bag off the bed and puts it next to the nightstand. He hesitates but his worry is stronger and he peeks into the bag. Three pill wrappers lay on top of a few clothes: some paracetamol, something against fever and some fairly strong cough medicine.

Sighing deeply Alex leaves it be and goes to have a shower.

*

He spends the day with alternately checking on Benedict and pacing his flat, not able to concentrate on anything for long before it draws him back into the bedroom.

Benedict's dozing on and off - the coughing keeps him from deep sleep and he's quite grumpy as Alex wanders in for the umpteenth time, laying a hand on his forehead.

"I'm fine, for Christ's sake," he mutters hoarsely, turning his head away.

"I'm just concerned," Alex says, and he flinches at the hardness in his tone.

He gets up and wordlessly leaves the room again. Flopping on the sofa in the sitting room he stares blindly into space.

A sound from behind him has him look up.

"'m sorry," Benedict says, clinging to the doorframe to not fall, "I'm a terrible patient, I know that."

"Yes, you are," Alex says snarkily but he smiles at the other man.

He jumps to his feet as Benedict takes a step toward him, swaying heavily.

"And you belong in bed, you silly man," he grumbles as he steadies him with an arm around his waist.

"'s boring there. Can't sleep."

Alex steers him to the sofa and helps him sit down, immediately pulling the heavy blanket over him, tucking it tightly around him. Benedict's shivering, his skin clammy and hot.

"Damnit Ben, what do you want me to do? You're seriously ill, the fever's-"

"-is breaking, I can feel it already. I'll be better in the morning. Can I have some tea? Please?"

Alex watches him closely and then sighs as he meets Benedict's stubborn gaze.

"Sure."

He walks into the kitchen and clicks the kettle on. While he fixes a pot, he hears Benedict cough again, and even though it still sounds terribly painful, he has the feeling it's loosening already.

On a whim, he adds some rum into the teapot and carries it back, pouring Benedict a cup and hands it to him.

"Thanks," Benedict croaks, smiling weakly at him. He inhales the steam and raises his eyebrows.

"Wanting to get me drunk, are you?" he asks dryly, sniffing on his mug again.

Alex laughs and sits down next to him, taking up his own tea.

"I'd rather hoped it'll help you sleep."

"Ah."

Silence falls as they sip their tea, the only sound the heavy rain splattering against the window.

"You know," Alex says quietly, "I hate that I can't do anything. Seeing you like this? It kills me."

"You do something," Benedict replies after a while, "you're here for me even though I'm a horrible patient."

Alex shrugs.

"Helps that I like you a lot."

Benedict's smile is the sweetest thing Alex has seen in a while and he hides his flushing face in his mug.

"Do you now?" Benedict smirks, not the least fazed by his cross-eyed look as he peers over his own mug into Alex's face.

Alex only nods and Benedict smiles again, the crinkles around his eyes deepening.

"How is it," Alex sighs, "that even though you're ill and grumpy I still can't stop staring at you, huh?"

Now it's Benedict's turn to look flustered and he ducks his head.

"Because you're crazy?" he says, trying to sound sarcastic but it only comes out questioning.

Alex watches him squirm under his gaze and then nods solemnly.

"Yeah, crazy about you."

The words hang between them, charged with something Alex can't name. Benedict's eyes are wide and even though they're clouded from the fever, the intensity gets to Alex and chases a shiver down his spine.

"Is that so?" Benedict rasps, his voice low and suddenly laden with tension. Slowly he leans forward to put his mug on the table. As he leans back, the blanket slides off his shoulder and Alex can see the goosebumps all over his exposed skin.

He swallows hard.

"Yes," he murmurs, watching hypnotised as Benedict reaches out a hand and slides a finger over Alex's thigh. His hand is shaking slightly but that doesn't keep him from running his hand up and down Alex's leg, grinning as he moans at his warm touch.

"Ben," he groans, laying his hand over Benedict's, stopping him, "you're ill, you need to go back to bed."

Benedict's eyes narrow as he looks up.

"I intend to but I'm not going alone," he growls deeply. The cold has made his dark baritone even darker and Alex is sure talking must hurt yet he can't help the wistful moan tumbling from his lips.

"Take me to bed," Benedict demands, pushing the blanket off himself and standing on wobbly legs.

"I really really shouldn't", Alex objects but stands as well, pulling Benedict against him, gasping at the heat of his body. He wraps his arm around him and together they stumble to the bedroom where Benedict collapses ungracefully on the bed.

Alex stands beside it, eyeing him thoughtfully.

"I should just tuck you in and let you sleep," he muses.

"You could do that," is Benedict’s reply, "or you could..."

His voice trails off and he slips a hand in his pants, palming his growing erection, moaning loudly at his own touch.

"Jesus, Ben," Alex says helplessly, his gaze glued to the man's long, nimble fingers as he strokes himself.

"You're insane," Alex mutters, "and possibly drunk too."

"Perhaps," Benedict says, arching into his hand, "but I'm also very much in need of you right now. So..."

He locks his gaze with Alex's, raising an elegant eyebrow at him.

After a short internal fight Alex gives in and cursing quietly he gets into bed to be instantly enveloped by Benedict's arms, pulling him as close as possible.

Benedict's lips slide over his neck, his hands roaming restlessly over his back.

"Alex," Benedict whines, "touch me, please."

And despite himself, Alex can't help but oblige, running his hands over Benedict's heated skin, smiling absently as the man shudders heavily.

"That feels so good," he mumbles, sounding absent, "... everything's so... intense," he finishes, stretching languidly as Alex maps out his chest, tracing over the ridges of his prominent ribs.

"That's probably the fever," Alex replies softly, leaning down to kiss Benedict's collarbone, smiling as he gasps loudly.

"Hm, probably but by God, please keep doing that."

"You're absolutely impossible," Alex grumbles as he makes quick process of removing both their clothing.

He presses himself against Benedict's burning body who buries his face in Alex's neck, mouthing sloppy kisses over his skin.

"What do you want?" Alex asks, circling his hips lazily against Benedict's hardness, just as hot as the rest of him.

"Anything. Everything. Just, fuck, just keep touching me," is Benedict's hoarse answer, his voice barely audible and yet it shoots a jolt of hot arousal through Alex.

Benedict growls, suppressing a cough and Alex leans back, scanning his face.

"Stop talking," he says urgently, ignoring the raging desire in his blood, "lay back and let me take care of you."

Benedict groans roughly and then nods, his head lolling about, his eyes barely open.

Alex exhales and pushes him down, trailing his hands over the wide expanse of Benedict's body, his fingertips tingling at the sensation. He then lets his mouth follow, kisses every exposed spot he can reach.

Benedict's hands settle on his head, carding lazily through his hair, a soft humming making his chest vibrate underneath Alex's mouth.

He kisses every inch of Benedict's torso, revels in his taste and the softness of his skin, takes his time in discovering all the spots that make Benedict moan and wriggle.

Once again Alex is amazed at how sensitive, how responsive he is to the faintest touch.

Trailing a finger down from his neck to his stomach, he watches how Benedict arches up, goosebumps covering his entire body, broken moans falling from his lips.

"Alex," he whines, the word chasing sparks of desire through Alex's limbs.

"Yes?" he smiles, licking a long stripe along Benedict's hip.

"Please," he whispers, "please God... I need you."

Alex glimpses up: Benedict's gazing down at him through half-closed lids, eyes dark, lips parted and the vein on his neck pulsing.

Planting a hard kiss on Benedict's stomach Alex pushes his legs apart, settling between them, running teasing fingers over the inside of Benedict's thighs.

Benedict makes some sort of choked off groan that shoots straight between Alex's legs, his neglected erection throbbing painfully, Benedict’s intense scent driving him mad with a feral longing.

Without warning he takes Benedict's cock in his mouth.

He can hear Benedict curse and babble incoherently but it's only faint, the feeling of his heavy hardness in his mouth drown out everything else.

Alex gets lost in licking over his heated length, tasting bitter pre-come. He sets a slow rhythm, losing himself in the steady up and down. He curls a hand around the base, providing a bit more friction and Benedict's hands in Alex's hair tighten.

"Christ, that feels... amazing... Alex..."

Alex concentrates on the fullness of his mouth, pressing his tongue flat over the veins on the underside of Benedict's cock. He can almost feel his pulse like this, it's a heady sensation and he moans around him. He's not prepared for the muffled cry, broken and hoarse, echoing through the quietness of the bedroom. And then Benedict arches up again, jerky little movements and he comes in Alex's mouth, trembling through his orgasm, his hands pulling on Alex's hair.

Collapsing back into the mattress, he pants heavily, a coughing fit shaking him violently and Alex lets go of him, sudden worry replacing the simmering want.

"You okay?" he murmurs, scrambling up to look at him closely.

Benedict's cheeks are red and Alex doesn't have to touch them to know they're burning. But he nods hazily, willing his eyes open and Alex inhales sharply as their gaze meets. His pupils are huge, black and deep and Alex drowns in them. Without thinking he leans down, sealing his lips over Benedict's, instantly curling his tongue around his.

They kiss like starving man, forgetting everything around them.

Alex yelps as Benedict's hand closes weakly around his aching cock and he bucks his hips into his searing grip.

"Bloody hell, you're hot," he murmurs against Benedict's mouth, making him smirk briefly.

"Literally," he rasps, frowning a little as he tries to establish a proper rhythm.

His palm is burning against Alex's skin but it's not enough. Alex shifts and slips his own hand between their bodies, covering Benedict's fingers with his own quivering hand.

Increasing the pressure they move together, the feeling over their combined hands dazzling and Alex groans lowly as Benedict's thumb slides over the head, smearing pre-come over his shaft, slicking the friction.

"Let go," Benedict whispers, his voice so deep Alex can barely hear him.

He leans closer, his nose rubbing against Alex's, his stormy eyes boring into Alex's and he gets lost in the sight, the touch, the sounds the other man makes.

His orgasm rolls over him in an unexpected wave, and he cries out, giving himself over to the overwhelming strength of it.

Benedict's murmuring endearments against his lips, working him through it until Alex stops his slowly moving hand, covering it with his own.

Trying to catch his breath, he just lays there, trembling in the aftermath with Benedict's heated body pressed tightly against him.

Eventually he can move again and he pulls away to look at Benedict.

Suppressing a chuckle Alex pushes the tousled hair out of his face: he's sound asleep, mouth parted, breathing raggedly.

"Wore you out, have I?" Alex whispers, kissing his forehead.

Laying back he watches him lovingly.

Benedict's angular face seems softer in his sleep, his lashes casting fuzzy shadows over those high cheekbones, still flushed from the fever. A fine sheen of sweat makes his pale skin shimmer in the low lights.

"Fuck, what have you done to me?," Alex murmurs to himself, caressing Benedict's cheek, smoothing over the crinkle above his nose that even sleep can't erase.

Tracing the lines on his face, Alex loses himself in watching him, fingertips memorising every angle, trailing aimlessly over his nose, his plush lips, the stubble on his chin.

"My beautiful Benedict," Alex mumbles, a hot sensation skittering over his spine and he shivers.

Carefully rolling out of bed he pulls the duvet over Benedict and stumbles into the bathroom to clean himself up.

*

Alex wakes to what sounds like Benedict coughing his lungs out.

Drowsily he turns over to retrieve the water bottle he placed on the nightstand and unceremoniously shoves it in Benedict's hand.

He hears a mumble, the top being screwed off and the sound of him drinking greedily.

Flopping back, Benedict exhales loudly.

"Sorry, didn't mean to wake you," he mutters.

"Don't worry," Alex replies sleepily, rolling over to find himself nose to nose with Benedict.

"How are you feeling?" he asks, worming a hand out from under the duvet and lays it on Benedict's face.

He's warm but not as hot as last night and his skin is damp: the fever's broken.

"Like run over by a truck," Benedict grumbles, pulling the duvet higher, suppressing a shudder.

"Poor Ben," Alex smiles cheekily.

Benedict glares at him but Alex only laughs, ruffling his already messy hair.

"You're the most adorable creature," he says, laying back down, watching the other man.

"'m not adorable," Benedict mutters, "'m ill and disgusting."

Alex coos, he can't help it.

Benedict growls, his eyes blazing but Alex ignores the grumpiness.

"Yes you are," he insists, digging through the duvet for Benedict's hand, lacing their fingers, "adorable and cute and you make me a very happy man."

His voice trails off and the smile falters as Benedict's eyes widen surprised, he clears his throat.

"Speaking of happy. Did I have a fevered dream last night or..."

He lets the words hang between them, and the confused expression on his face makes Alex snicker.

"Did it feel like a fevered dream?" he asks, slipping his free hand under the covers, caressing whatever skin he finds.

Benedict moans softly, pressing involuntarily into his touch.

"I have no idea," he says, his lids fluttering closed as Alex's fingers slide over his side, settling over his heart.

"Not a dream," Alex clarifies, finding pleasure in the sudden stutter of Benedict's breath and the speeding of his heartbeat.

They keep watching each other, Benedict squeezing Alex's hand in his, a dreamy smiles dancing over his lips.

"I love your hands," Alex splutters out, blushing a bit at the sudden confession, lifting their joined hands to his lips to kiss Benedict's knuckles.

"Yeah?"

"Yes. I could watch them all day," Alex says quietly, trailing a finger over the back of Benedict's hand, "so strong and yet able to handle the most fragile of tasks. They're so big and one would think you... don't know, clumsy, you know but you're not. Quite the opposite. Everything you touch, it looks so... graceful. And don't get me started on those fingers."

Alex sighs as he caresses said fingers, outlining them, revelling in the softness of the skin and the strength he knows are in them.

Benedict's eyes are glued to Alex's, drinking in every motion he makes, every whispered word and his tongues flicks over his lower lip.

"Absolutely marvellous," Alex muses, turning Benedict's hand in his, kissing his palm and letting his tongue flick over the salty skin, feeling his pulse quicken.

"Gorgeous like the rest of you," he murmurs absently and only Benedict's rough moan pulls him back into reality.

"Sorry," Alex says, blushing at the undisguised heat he sees in Benedict's face, "got a bit carried away."

With a dark growl Benedict presses against him, searching and finding his lips and kisses him with a fervour that knocks the air out of Alex's lungs.

"Want me to show what else I can do with them?" he breathes as he breaks the kiss, skimming nimble fingers over Alex's neck.

Alex can't answer because Benedict kisses him again and for a while there's no more talking while the rain splatters noisily against the windowpanes.

 


End file.
